


Let That Be Enough

by YetAnotherPersona



Series: A Minor Scheduling Error [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assisted Suicide, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), POV Toriel (Undertale), Parent Toriel (Undertale), Soft Chara (Undertale), Spoilers - Undertale Genocide Route, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, Suicide Attempt, Undertale Spoilers, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YetAnotherPersona/pseuds/YetAnotherPersona
Summary: After getting the date of an important meeting mixed up, Asgore and Toriel come home just as Chara is executing their buttercup plan. As she and her husband rush to prevent the unthinkable, Toriel wonders what this means for her family.
Relationships: Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel, Chara & Asgore Dreemurr & Asriel Dreemurr & Toriel
Series: A Minor Scheduling Error [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872568
Comments: 30
Kudos: 99
Collections: Fanfiction From The Chara Defense Squad, The Fanfic Paradise Discord Collection





	Let That Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for everything you'd expect in relation to Chara's plan - chiefly attempted suicide and depiction of symptoms of poisoning. If you haven't played the relevant parts of Undertale, prepare for massive spoilers. Nothing in this story is medical advice for handling a real poisoning.
> 
> This story has been made into a podfic by [CoramDeo!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoramDeo/pseuds/CoramDeo) You can listen to their reading [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otLqi55caCQ)

Some days you win, some days you travel all the way to Hotland for a forum on bridge safety codes, only to find out it’s actually scheduled for tomorrow. Such is the life of a busy monarch.

“Chara! Asriel!” you call as you open the door to the castle living quarters. “We’re back early!”

“Very early,” adds Asgore, “on account of Her Majesty’s inability to read a diary.” He chuckles.

“Alright, Fluffybuns,” you say, shooting him a wink. “Because you’re so brilliant at keeping to a schedule.”

“All the more important to capitalise on it on the occasions when you slip up.” Asgore sets his briefcase on the table. “Where are those kids, anyway? Asriel? Chara?”

You stop and listen. There’s no sound coming from their room. You call again, louder. Still no answer.

“They’re probably hiding,” says Asgore. “I’ll check the bedrooms.”

“I’ll look in the garden.”

You head out of the back door, and move stealthily between the trees. The kids are almost certainly waiting to jump out at you, but if you circle around maybe you can get the drop on them. You skirt the border of the garden until you get close to the best hiding spot: a small clear patch of lawn surrounded by tall shrubs. You crouch down and peer through the leaves; sure enough, you glimpse a telltale yellow-striped sweater on the other side.

You clear your throat loudly, and immediately hear a frantic scuffling sound – as well as what sounds like something crashing into a bush. You run over to a gap in the shrubs and jump out, talons bared, doing your best scary roar.

Chara and Asriel are both sitting on the grass. Chara stares at you, eyes wide with shock – Asriel yelps and claps his hands over his mouth. You laugh at their expressions. This would normally be their cue to run away in mock terror, but they both stay frozen.

“Surprise! We’re home early,” you laugh.

When they still don’t answer, an alarm goes off in your head – from their behaviour it seems highly probable that you’ve interrupted them in the middle of some Level 2 Shenanigans, or alternatively some manner of Tomfoolery. You put your hands on your hips and switch from playful to authoritative.

“Alright, what’s going on here then?”

“Nothing,” says Asriel, his nervous cadence all the confirmation you need that something is definitely going on. You mentally upgrade the Shenanigan Level from 2 to 3.

Chara is staring intently at the ground. You study their face and spot a fleck of something dark clinging to their lower lip. Hmmm.

“Chara. What’s that you’ve been eating?” you ask.

“Nothing,” says Chara in a monotone, quickly wiping their mouth with their sleeve.

“Nothing, huh?” You turn to Asriel. “Is that right?”

He doesn’t answer, but your words achieve the desired effect – his eyes flick to one side for just a split second. You follow their line of sight over to one of the shrubs and, sure enough, spot a wooden bowl half-concealed beneath it. You walk over and pick it up with some trepidation – its contents are partly spilled, suggesting it was hidden quickly.

You turn around and brandish the vessel in front of the children. Asriel turns bright red and hides his face; Chara looks up for just a moment, their brow furrowed, before staring back at the ground.

You examine the brown mush in the bowl. “Really, children! What on Earth is this concoction? It looks revolting.” You frown at Chara. “Please don’t tell me you were eating this, darling?”

They stay completely still, not even trying to deny it.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Are you trying to make yourself sick?” You dip a finger into the bowl, and scoop up some of the mush to get a closer look. You see a few bits of green stem. “What’s in it, anyway? Some kind of–”

And then you notice it. A small, bright yellow petal, clinging to the end of your claw.

“Oh my God.” An icy grip closes around your stomach, and you drop the bowl, sending its contents splattering across the hem of your robe. “Oh my God.”

You kneel down and grab Chara’s shoulders. “Were those buttercups? Answer me, Chara.”

They pull away and crawl backwards, fear in their eyes.

“Asriel,” you say, turning back to him; a film of tears shines in his wide eyes. “Asriel, were those–”

“I didn’t want them to do it! We–”

“Shut up!” Chara yells, lunging at Asriel, “You snitch!”

You grab Chara by the waist and heave them into the air. “Chara, leave your brother alone.”

“He’s not my brother, and you’re not my Mom!” Chara struggles against your grip, their face red. “Why do you have to ruin everything?” You’re not sure if that’s aimed at you or Asriel.

You try to think clearly. “Asriel, how much did they swallow?” you ask over Chara’s protests.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t meant to–”

“Just tell me how much,” you snap.

“Only a mouthful. It was –”

“Come with me,” you order, cutting him off. You sling Chara over your shoulder and stride back towards the house. Asriel stands rooted to the spot.

“Now,” you add.

“Put me down! Put me down! I hate you!” Chara yells, pounding your back with their fists. You stay silent, not trusting yourself to speak right now. Tenderness and reconciliation will have to wait until the current crisis is dealt with.

As you approach the house, Asgore emerges from the back door. He grins for a moment when he sees you carrying Chara, but his face falls as he registers the fury in their screams and your own grim expression.

“There you a– oh my goodness,” he says.

“Call Doctor Kelsen,” you say. “And quick. Chara’s gone and swallowed a bunch of buttercups.”

“Oh my God.” He takes on an expression of horror to match your own, and dashes back inside. You take Chara into the hall and put them down. They’ve given up trying to get away, and simply stand there glaring at you. Asriel comes to a halt at your heel.

“You didn’t eat any, did you Asriel?” you ask.

“No, I–”

“Good. Now listen carefully, sweetheart,” you say, thinking on your feet. “I need you to run down to Barna’s shop in town and buy a tin of those pear-flavoured lozenges and... and a jar of powdered water-sausage root. Take some gold from my purse – fifty should be enough. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes! Of course,” says Asriel, standing to attention.

“Excellent,” you say. “As for you, Chara, come to the kitchen.”

Chara wears a mutinous expression and says nothing, but they do at least follow you into the kitchen. What were they thinking? They know what those flowers did to Asgore! Why on Earth would they...

When the realisation hits, you have to lean against the wall for a moment to stop yourself from fainting. _Chara knows exactly what those flowers did to Asgore._

_Why?_

No. Think about motives later. Focus on the task in hand. You can hear Asgore talking on the phone in the other room. There’s nothing you can do until he comes back with advice from Doctor Kelsen, but you need to look like you have a plan – you don’t know what Chara might do if you let them doubt your authority now.

Chara. Having followed you in here, they’ve now resumed their glowering.

“The flowers caused your father to vomit, didn’t they, Chara?” you ask, turning to them.

“He’s not–”

“Is that correct?” you say; you refuse to waste time on semantics right now.

“Yeah.”

You go to the cupboard under the sink and retrieve the shabbier of the two mop-buckets. “Hold this and sit down,” you instruct.

Chara obeys wordlessly – you suppose that if they’re going to throw up, they don’t have much stake in whether they do it on the tiles or in a bucket. Does the fact that you do, even now, make you a bad mother? You banish that question.

You pull up a chair and sit opposite Chara. “We’re going to wait here until your – until Asgore is off the phone,” you say.

“Okay.”

You examine Chara carefully across the table for any signs of symptoms, and try to remember how quickly they came on in Asgore when he ate that accursed pie. You think the stomach pains hit first, but you can’t tell if Chara’s having any; you’ve learned from experience that they’re alarmingly good at hiding pain.

“Yes, I’ll ask,” you hear Asgore say in the next room. “Tori! How much did they eat?”

“One mouthful,” you call back, “mashed up into a paste.”

Asgore speaks on the phone a bit longer, his voice too hushed for you to hear, and then there’s a click as he hangs up.

“Where’s Asriel?” he asks as he enters the kitchen.

“I sent him off to town to get him out of the way,” you answer. “He didn’t eat any himself.”

“Thank goodness,” breathes Asgore. “And Chara, you only ate one mouthful?”

Chara glares at him.

“That’s right,” you confirm for them. “What did Doctor Kelsen say?”

“She advised a quarter-dose of some painkillers from our medicine cabinet,” Asgore says, turning so Chara can’t see his face and giving you a meaningful look. “I’ll go and prepare it, if that’s alright?”

“Yes,” you say. You think you catch his drift. “I’ll stay and watch Chara.”

“Good plan,” Asgore nods, with a sidelong glance at the rack of gleaming kitchen knives. You just barely suppress a shudder – you hadn’t even considered that.

Asgore leaves to make up the medication, and now that the next few minutes are planned out your adrenaline rush abandons you. You feel exhausted and shaky, and you don’t think you’ll be able to hold back tears for long.

A silence falls over the room that neither you nor Chara dare break – there’s no indication that time is even moving until Asgore returns a few minutes later, carrying a shot glass containing a cloudy liquid that you immediately recognise.

“Drink this,” he instructs Chara, who’s still cradling the bucket. “It might not stop the effects, but it’ll reduce the pain if they do come on.”

You’ve never seen your husband lie with such a straight face before, and it pains you that he has to do it now. Chara takes the glass and drinks unquestioningly, the naiveté of the act driving home just how young they really are. They act so mature, so reserved, all the time, that you often forget.

Even at quarter-strength the drug works quickly, and within seconds Chara is vomiting up the poisonous flowers they swallowed. You beckon silently to Asgore and he comes to your side; you finally cry as you bury your face in his chest. Lying to Chara, forcing them to be sick without warning, makes you hate yourself. But it’s for the best – isn’t it?

 _Why?_ you think again. Now that there’s nothing to do but wait, you begin to spiral. You know Chara had a hard life on the surface. You know there’s things too painful for them to talk about, things you have to piece together from the words they scream after waking from their nightmares. You’ve tried to do your best to heal the damage of their early childhood, even burdened with the knowledge that some scarring can never be undone. You’ve patiently accepted every trial, chipped away at every barrier, extended every form of care you can conceive. Have you really failed so completely? Is this – you can barely bring yourself to think the word – is this suicide attempt really the end result of your endeavours?

Asgore strokes your head gently. You know each other in and out, having been together so long, and you can feel his reassurance, his answers to all your unspoken questions, in the steady motion of his hand. _No,_ he tells you. _You haven’t failed. This isn’t the end. Today is not your fault._ You wish you could believe it as easily as he does.

Ten minutes pass, then thirty, and Chara shows no signs of harm. You breathe a little easier with each passing moment. You intervened in time. They’re going to make it.

You hear Asriel arriving home, calling out for you and Asgore. Neither of you answer, but he eventually tracks you down and presses the lozenges and water-sausage root into Asgore’s hands.

“Thank you, Asriel,” Asgore says softly. “Go to your room now.”

Asriel nods, tears flowing from his eyes, and leaves without a word. Chara stares at him, but he avoids their gaze.

Several minutes later, Asgore pats your shoulder gently and speaks to you in an undertone.

“I will go and talk with Asriel,” he says. “He may be able to enlighten us on the details of what has happened here, and why. Are you able to look after Chara?”

You nod; he hugs you, and leaves the room once again.

You wait a moment, and then stand up. Everything feels distant, dreamlike, as you make your way round the table to Chara’s side. You place one hand gently on the rim of the bucket. They don’t flinch; they don’t move at all.

“I do not think you are going to vomit any more, Chara,” you say softly. “May I take this?”

They nod and release their vice-like grip; you take the bucket and set it on the table.

“May I pick you up?” you ask.

They look at you and nod again, and you’re surprised to see tears running down their face. You place your hands carefully on their waist and lift them out of the chair before sitting down yourself, cradling them against your body like a toddler. To your immense relief they hug you back, and bury their face in the crook of your neck. Now you yourself are in danger of crying again.

You jiggle Chara gently, comfortingly. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, and shouted at you,” you whisper. “I’m sorry I grabbed you and carried you when you didn’t want me to. I’m sorry I gave you that medicine that made you sick. I’m sorry... I’m sorry...”

There’s yet another stretch of silence before you can manage to speak again. “I love you, Chara,” you say at last. “You know that? Asgore and I love you, and Asriel loves you too, and we would do anything to keep you safe, to keep you from harm. We all want you alive. Our lives are better because of you. We love you.”

“I know,” they croak, and you can hear the pain in their voice. “I... I love you too.”

You’re not sure how long you carry on hugging Chara and crooning indistinct variations of the same words. It seems to last forever and not long enough at the same time. Asgore comes back in after a while, and joins you in embracing your child, affirming his and your love for them.

Eventually Chara taps your shoulder, signalling they want out. You stand up and put them down.

“Tori,” Asgore mutters to you. “We should discuss...”

“Yes,” you say. ”Asriel is still in the childrens’ room?”

Asgore nods.

You turn to Chara. “Chara, I am going to take you to Asgore’s and my room for a while. I would like you to stay there.”

“Okay,” Chara mumbles.

You lead them into your own bedroom and glance around, checking for anything that looks dangerous; you gather up the bedside lamp and hair dryers with their power cords as well as the scissors you and Asgore use to trim your claws, and your entire sewing box. You feel Chara’s eyes on you as you conduct your search, and wonder vaguely if you’re going to spend the rest of your life assessing every object in every room they walk into for its potential as a deadly weapon.

Your arms full, you return to the kitchen and dump everything haphazardly onto the counter. Then you sit down opposite Asgore. He’s prepared tea for both of you, which you could definitely use right now.

“Good news and bad news,” Asgore says the moment you’ve sat down. You appreciate that he isn’t giving you time to go any more to pieces than you already have.

“The bad news,” he continues, “is that this... attempt was frighteningly well thought-out. It took some planning, and Asriel was well-aware of what would happen. The good news is that Chara’s chief motive does not seem to be a hatred of their own life; least of all their life here with us.”

“What do you mean?” you ask hoarsely. The conviction that you’ve failed as a mother has quickly embedded itself in your brain – what other reason could Chara have to kill themselves aside from your, and possibly Asgore’s, utter inability to take care of a human child?

“It makes sense, I think, with hindsight,” Asgore says. “There had to be a reason for Asriel to be included in the plan. And there had to be a reason that they chose buttercups. It wasn’t just about wanting to die.”

You nod. That makes sense – or you think it does, at least. “So... why? What... what does it all mean?”

“Asriel melted down rather, so the explanation I was able to get from him was a bit garbled,” Asgore admits. “But here’s how I understand it...”

He begins describing the plan, and the pieces quickly fall into place in your mind as he goes. Chara would fall ill. As their health deteriorated, they would express their wish to see their village one more time. They would die, and Asriel, wracked with grief, would absorb their soul. He would pass through the barrier, harvest six human souls, and return to free you all.

As you listen you pass through disbelief, shock, horror, and then, so suddenly it alarms you, rage. Chara was going to kill themself, tear your family apart, in order to secure their freedom. And as if that weren’t bad enough, they would force Asriel to have a hand in their death. Then, that done, they would drive him through the barrier to attack innocent humans. This child, this human, this _intruder_ would make a murderer of your son six times over. Your fists are clenched tight on the table, claws digging into palms; you bite your lip so hard you fear you might shed dust.

And then the feeling passes as quickly as it came, leaving behind nothing but a cold, twisted knot of misery and self-loathing. Just minutes ago you were comforting Chara and assuring them of your love, and here you are now, whipping yourself into a lather of hatred against them when they need you most. They were willing to sacrifice their own life for you and your peoples’ freedom, and you can think only of... what? Your _real_ child? As if your promise to care for Chara is less sacred for not being sanctified by biology?

Your jaw relaxes, your fists uncurl, and you cry again. Asgore reaches across the table to touch your hand; you don’t recoil, though you hardly deserve such a gesture right now. “There, there, Tori,” he soothes.

You turn your wrist so that you can hold his hand. “I just thought... something terrible...” you sob.

“I was in a similar position just a minute ago,” he assures you. “That is why we are having this conversation alone. Our instincts do not define us, Toriel. Not unless we let them.”

“Even so,” you say. “I wish that I could think of Chara as my own... as much as I do Asriel...”

“We can only do our best,” Asgore says, his voice low and steady, “to treat them as our own, and show them that they are valued. You, me, Chara, Asriel; none of this would be so painful if we did not all care for each other so deeply.”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and see him smiling gently. You manage to muster a smile of your own in response.

“What do we do next?” you ask.

He sighs. “Truthfully, I do not know. But I think it would be best if the four of us spoke together now. We must impress upon the children that all of... this...” he gestures vaguely. “...Is something that we must deal with as a united front, so to speak. We are a family, and we cannot survive if we work to deceive one another, and foil one another’s plans.”

“You’re right,” you say. After all these years you still marvel at Asgore’s ability to rally people and face crisis head on – without him here, you think this day would have already destroyed you.

“Let us bring Asriel to our bedroom and discuss things there,” Asgore says. “I for one shall certainly need a lie-down after this.”

You manage a faint laugh, and stand up. “I think I shall, too.”

Asriel is face down on his bed, still crying, when you go to collect him, but he twists his head around when he hears the door opening.

“Mom?” he says. “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to – please don’t–”

“Hush,” you say, hurrying to his side and scooping him up into your arms. “Do not be afraid; I am not angry. There will be no punishment, for you or for Chara.”

He relaxes slightly, and lets out a deep sigh.

“We are going to Dad’s and my room,” you tell him, bearing him to the door. “Chara is there. The four of us are going to talk this over, together.”

“Okay,” he whimpers. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Asgore sits cross-legged in the middle of your enormous bed with Chara in his lap, his hands on their shoulders. You sit down next to him and put Asriel down carefully in front of you. Your combined weight makes a shallow depression in the mattress, and gravity gently tugs at all of you, trying to pull you together. Asriel glances nervously at Chara as you let go of him, and they look back, but you see no anger or cruelty in their eyes; only exhaustion.

“Now that we are all here,” says Asgore, “I must admit that I do not know where to begin.”

“I will start,” you offer, your voice husky. You cough and continue. “Chara? Asriel?”

They both look up at you.

“I want you to know,” you say, “that Asgore and I love you both more than anything in the world. I know that being confined here by the barrier is terrible, and I know that we all want to be free. But understand this: If we could destroy the barrier by trading either one of your lives, we would not do it. Not in a thousand lifetimes. Not for anything in the world. We love you both so much. And we would never, ever risk losing you in exchange for our freedom. Do you understand that?”

Asriel nods; so does Chara.

Asgore speaks next. “I must take my share of responsibility for what has happened today. Asriel, Chara, I have called you the future of humans and monsters. I have told you that your friendship proves that the coexistence of our kinds is possible. I have burdened you with a dream for the future that you never asked for, and had no part in imagining. From now on, I want you to know that your friendship is worthy in and of itself. You need not exist for anyone else’s sake, and you need not live by anyone else’s expectations. Whatever you choose to be, whatever you decide to do, Toriel and I will love you and support you for that. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah,” Asriel quavers.

“Uh-huh,” Chara breathes, looking down.

There’s a long silence; eventually Asriel breaks it.

“I’m sorry, Chara,” he says. “I... I won’t say I’m sorry for snitching on your plan when Toriel found us. I won’t say I’m sorry for crying.”

Chara looks at him suspiciously, but doesn’t interrupt.

“I feel bad about those things,” Asriel says, squeezing his ears nervously, “but... but they’re not what I really did wrong.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I went along with your plan for so long. I’m sorry that I was... was cowardly, and didn’t tell you that I didn’t like it sooner. Or that I didn’t tell you strongly enough. I don’t think I ever would have managed to take those human souls, Chara. And maybe that makes me weak, but I still should have told you. Because if Mom hadn’t found us, and stopped us, you would have died for nothing. And you don’t deserve to die!” He raises his voice. “Whether it achieves something or not! Your life matters too much!”

He looks around, remembering himself, and his voice sinks back down to a near-whisper. “So I did let you down,” he finishes. “But it wasn’t when I told Mom and Dad the plan. It was when I agreed to help you kill yourself. I’m sorry.”

It’s frightening to hear your son, still so young, talk about such things. But you reach out and stroke his head, let him know he’s done well, and that you’re there for him.

You, Asgore, and Asriel all have your eyes on Chara now. They shake their hair out of their face and speak in a low, sullen voice.

“I can’t remember a time before I came here that I wanted to be alive,” they say. “I think maybe I was happy, when I was really little. But I don’t remember.”

They pause for a while. You know they’re speaking these words with great effort, and you hang on to every one.

“When I first came here, I still didn’t exactly... want to live. But I was curious. You were all so nice to me, and things were different and interesting. I assumed you’d get tired of me in the end, and stop looking after me, like humans do. But monsters are so different from humans. You kept being nice, and in the end, I guess, I got used to it.”

“But wanting to be alive... it’s hard. Sometimes I get tired, and I feel like it would be easier to just die. Normally when that happens I think about you guys, and think maybe you’d be sad if I died, and that’s enough.”

“But then one day I was thinking about the barrier. I’d read how it takes at least a monster soul and a human soul to cross over. And I thought, if I can’t enjoy my life, I can at least make my death useful for something. You guys are the only people I’ve ever cared about. I could help you, and get rid of myself at the same time.”

You put a hand over your mouth. Hearing Chara express such disregard for their own life so soberly terrifies you in a way you can’t put into words. But if they have these feelings, it’s better that they speak them than hide them. So you bite your tongue, and let them continue.

Now Chara looks at each of you in turn. “It’s hard for me to believe you’d really be that sad if I was gone,” they say. “But I think I can believe it. Right now at least. So... I’m sorry for scaring you all. And Asriel, I’m sorry for trying to make you do my plan when you didn’t want to. I should’ve believed you when you said you didn’t like it. And I’m gonna try and believe you all now, when you say that you want me around. Even if I don’t get why.”

There is absolutely no way you aren’t going to cry now. Asriel flings himself forward on the bed to hug Chara; Asgore, crying as well, puts one arm around your shoulder, and you and he use your free arms to pull Asriel and Chara in, and the uneven surface of the bed sends all four of you spilling sideways in an ungainly lopsided group hug.

You lie there a very, very long time, so long that you and Asgore certainly miss whatever royal engagement you actually had today, but you don’t care. Today you could have lost one or even both of your children, and by some capricious whim of fate you didn’t. Everything else is trivial for now.

Of course, this struggle is far from over. The demons that plagued your family and your kingdom today will still do so tomorrow, and you will have to battle them every day, perhaps for as long as you live. Chara may believe they are loved now, but they won’t always; you and Asgore and Asriel will have to remind them, help them believe it when it’s difficult, and protect them when believing is impossible. You might fall short at times. Eventually you may fail altogether, and the thought sends a chill through you. But here, today, you’ve all survived, and you all still love each other, and nobody has been hurt beyond repair.

You embrace your husband, and hold your children safe between you, and let that be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! If you did, please consider checking out my other Undertale work.


End file.
